Preview Midnight Wedding #2
“No,” he says and when I look over, the gun’s gone. That’s a huge relief. I’m sweating and my heart’s on fire and all I want to do is run the hell away from here, but the guy could still pop my skull with his hands like a balloon if he wanted.
This is exactly how I felt the last time I went urban exploring and the cops showed up. Well, this is probably worse. The cops were just going to arrest me.
This guy might snap my spine in half.
Curiosity never works out great for me.
“No to which? The broom or the trash bags?” I’m babbling but I can’t help myself. “Don’t worry either way. I can go grab some stuff and—”
“No, you’re not going to help.”
“Really, it’s no trouble. I don’t know what happened here and it’s definitely none of my business, but you have a long night ahead of you and it’s already late. I’m happy to pitch in.”
There’s a moment when I think he’s going to pull the gun again.
We stare at each other across the kitchen counter, and he slowly leans into the space between us.
I’m beaming like a moron and trying to exude positivity.
Totally normal, everything’s absolutely fine, no reason to think I’m a threat.
I’m struck again at how insanely attractive he is, and the thought of him flexing and lifting and getting all sweaty as he cleans gets my knees shaking.
Not with fear this time. And that’s how I know I’m a very deeply damaged individual.
“Are you trying to see the rest of my underwear drawer?” he asks very softly, with a smile on his face.
A joke. He’s making another joke.
It takes a second to process.
“It’s not like that,” I say quickly, even though it’s obvious he’s only messing with me.
“You sure? I can save you the trouble and show you where my socks are.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Your socks?”
“I assume you’re into a wide range of kinks.”
“Are you implying that I have a foot fetish right now?”
“If the shoe fits.”
Oh my god. He’s making puns.
“You’re a monster. I wish you’d just point that gun at me again.”
“We can do that too if you want.”
I laugh, not because I’m finding this particularly funny, but because it defuses the tension. He’s smirking at me, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was flirting.
But normal men don’t flirt with underwear thieves.
Which is me, apparently.
“Just let me help straighten up. It won’t take that long.”
“You really don’t need to.”
I find a broom and a dustpan in the pantry, plus a few empty trash bags in a closet. There’s not much else around, which is odd. Does the guy actually live here? Because it doesn’t feel like anyone possibly could.
He wordlessly accepts a bag, and we start collecting the shards of broken plates.
I’m not sure what I’m doing. Helping some random guy that was just pointing a gun at me and accusing me of being into feet isn’t exactly how I pictured the end of tonight going.
Mom will be wake early, and I want to be up to see her before she goes to her doctor’s appointment, but if I’m not in bed soon, I’m going to sleep too late.
“What’s your name?” he asks as he sweeps and I gather.
“Lena. What about you?”
“Arsen.”
“Nice to meet you, I guess.”
“It’s strange the way you can live around people but never really know them at all.”
No kidding. Tonight I learned I have a psycho terrifying monster living down the hall.,
“That’s pretty normal, right?” I laugh awkwardly. “:We’ve all got our own little bubbles.”
“My bubble feels too big right about now,” he murmurs and catches my eyes.
My heart goes wild.
One look and the man makes me want to melt into him.
Put that gun against my head and take me, scary neighbor man.
I’m particularly deranged this evening it seems.
I can’t make myself leave. We move into the living room.
I want to ask him why he’s not calling the cops or acting like this is even a big deal, but he seems intent on not talking about the reason we’re cleaning his place.
The big old messy elephant in the room. I help him trash the couch stuffing and toss the shards of some pottery.
“Didn’t take care of this very well,” he says, holding up the dried husk of what I think was once a snake plant.
“No judgment here. I could kill sand if given the opportunity.”
“That’s a real skill.”
“Tell me about it. My mom got me sea monkeys one time when I was little, and I drank them after like a day.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You drank sea monkeys?”
“Yep, I couldn’t help myself. I really wanted to know what they tasted like.”
“And?”
“Salty.” I shrug at the memory. Mom went ballistic, terrified that I was going to get sick. But I was fine. They’re just like tiny shrimp. “Nothing special.”
He laughs to himself. “Do you get in trouble a lot?”
“Depends what you mean by that.”
“Well, you drank sea monkeys and broke into my apartment.” His eyes move to my jacket, now hanging open, and rake along my exposed skin before meeting my gaze again.
A thrill shivers between my legs. No mistaking that look.
I’ve seen it before, but never from a man like him. “And you look like that.”
My mouth opens, not sure what he’s implying. Coming from anyone else, and I might feel pissed off right now. But from him? From that mouth and with that tone?
He could tell me I look like a hooker straight up, and I’d still wrap my legs around his face.
“I’m just the kind of girl that helps out her neighbors, that’s all.”
“Right, you’ve got a big heart.”
“I’m a gentle spirit, really.”
“Then why were you fondling my undergarments?”
“I wasn’t fondling anything.” I lightly slap his arm and have to pull my hand back quickly when it’s like hitting pure steel. “And who uses the word undergarments?”
“Don’t change the subject.” His eyes are shining with amusement. We’re standing very close together. “I caught you going through my stuff.”
“And I’m making it up to you by helping you clean.” I stoop down and start gathering cash. “Who has all this money lying around, anyway?”
“Emergency fund.” He gently moves me away and takes over. I could linger a little longer under that touch. “Everyone should have one.”
“Must be nice,” I mutter, frowning at the stacks he makes. There must be enough there to pay our rent for two years. And that’s his emergency money.
We move into the bedrooms. Only one of them is furnished.
The other two are mainly barren. Everything’s wrecked, including the bed frame, and it takes an hour before we manage to make the place at least semi-presentable in the sense that I could walk around barefoot without cutting my toes. It’s still a wreck though.
When we’re done, he sits next to me on the edge of the bed, and I’m feeling both exhausted and wired.
It’s a bad combination. I’m loopy and dreamy, and I keep staring at his lips, wondering what they feel like.
Would they taste sharp and metallic? Like the barrel of his gun?
Mom always said I’m too curious for my own good.
Right now, I’m starting to think she was right.
“I keep waiting for you to ask again,” he says softly, staring across the room at the door.
“Ask what?” But I know. The one thing we decided not to talk about.
He gestures all around us.
“Oh, right.” I lean back on my hands. My jacket shifts open more and falls slightly down my shoulders.
I should adjust it, but choose not to. His eyes move down my body again, and another tingle shudders between my legs.
I like the way he looks at me. I like the way he sits close to me.
I like his mouth, the way he teases me, his voice, his sense of humor. I even like the way he smells.
Not his underwear. Him. I didn’t smell his underwear.
“You don’t want to know,” he says after a long, tension-filled pause. “Trust me, it’s better if you act like you never saw this.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Really?”
No, not really, not remotely really, but what else can I say?
I’m dying to know why this happened, but it’s very obvious that this guy is big trouble, and it’s better for my health if I don’t find out.
Even though it’s killing me.
“Sure. Really.”
He laughs softly. This time it’s a low chuckle. “You’re not very good at lying.”
“I’m a wonderful liar. Here, watch this.” I compose myself and meet his eye. “This is totally normal, and I’m having a great time. See? Fantastic.”
“You’re not supposed to admit that’s something you do.”
“Got me there.”
“Let’s pretend tonight never happened. You go back to your place, go to bed, and in the morning, it’s like you never came in here.”
“That’s going to be hard for me.”
“But better for you in the long run.” His smile fades away. Something dark and haunted replaces it. Which only makes me want to ask a dozen questions. “You don’t want to know me.”
“Are you sure?” I tilt my chin toward him. My lips part slightly, and god, I’m practically begging him to come closer.
I know he’s right. The whole gun thing made it pretty obvious. I should get up and go. I should run like my life depends on it.
But I have to know more.
I need to know more.
This man’s a mystery, a gorgeous freaking mystery, and I’m not the kind of person that can ignore so many unanswered questions.
Like, why does he keep looking at me like he wants to tear my body to pieces?
“I’m positive,” he says, eyes locked on me.
Then I do something stupid. I’m not even sure why. But my mouth opens, and I say something very, very stupid.
“If tonight’s not happening, then what if you didn’t kiss me?” I blurt out.
His eyes widen slightly. My heart’s beating right up into my throat. I don’t know what made me say that or why I’m being so bold, but if I’m not going to get what I need, at least I can get what I want.
And I really, really want this man.
Yep, I’m definitely a disturbed individual.
“What if I didn’t stop at kissing you?” he asks in that low, sensual voice. “What if I ran a hand through your hair, held it tight, and didn’t let go until I was finished with you?”
Oh, fuck.
“Then that wouldn’t happen, which would be totally fine” I say, basically whimpering at this guy. “At least, not by tomorrow morning. Right now—”
He leans forward, one hand gripping the back of my neck, and crushes my mouth with his.
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